“Isn’t it suspicious that she won’t answer questions?” Cassian asked me.
“She has the right not to speak. It doesn’t make her any more or less suspicious under the law,” I said.
“It makesmesuspicious,” Cassian said, glaring at her.
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not an investigator, isn’t it?” Ezzila asked.
Cassian pressed his lips together. “Can you at least help me break the curse?”
“Hm…” Ezzila eyed me up and down. “Perhaps I can help, but it’ll cost you.”
“What’s the cost?” Cassian asked.
She thrust her finger into Cassian’s face again and said, “I want you to part with your favorite childhood memory to give me for use in magic.”
Cassian’s pale eyebrows drew together. “My favorite childhood memory?”
“Yes,” Ezzila said with a wicked smile. “And then I’ll break your curse.”
“Cassian, you don’t have to do that,” I said, stepping in. “Will you take mine?”
Ezzila sneered at me. “I’m not interested inyourmemories. I bet it would be some sort of weird power play, you nasty roach.” She spat at my feet when she finished.
“Wow, Ezzila, relax. He’s not like that,” Cassian said. “We shouldn’t have to sacrifice a part of ourselves to hire you. I won’t give you my memory.”
“Your grandfather would be disappointed in you, Cassian. Working with the enemy. Unbelievable,” Ezzila said, stepping back into her house and slamming the door. “Come back when you’re ready to part with your memories!” she yelled.
Cassian frowned at the closed door, and then his gaze wandered away. I slid my hand around his shoulders and led him away from the house. “Your grandfather would be very proud of you,” I said, our steps crunching through the snow beneath us. “I didn’t know him, but from what I’ve heard, I think he would want you to keep your most valuable thoughts.”
Cassian smiled, finally looking at me. “You’re right. Thanks, Sterling.” He sighed and looked ahead. “What now?”
I nodded toward the glowing bakery. “Should we to a break to organize our thoughts?”
The way Cassian puckered his lips as he looked toward the bakery got my heart beating fast. The reflection of snow against his pale face gave him a heavenly aura, and it was hard not to remember his soft skin on my lips. “That sounds nice,” he said.
I had to win him over again.
Chapter Seven
CASSIAN
The Dreckle bakery was even more magical than I remembered from my childhood. Coming in from the snow was like a warm hug, and the smell of cinnamon, coffee, and hot dough was like a kiss on the forehead. The fireplace at the end of the room filled the building with warm light, and the gentle snow drifting past the windows felt cozier than cold.
Sterling’s presence made it better, but I tried not to think about that.
Sterling examined the room. “It smells nice in here,” he remarked.
“That’s probably the coffee,” I said.
He laughed, and my foolish heart fluttered at the sound. “You already know me so well.”
“Good morning, boys!” a middle-aged woman emerged from a back door to stand behind the counter. Shelves lined the wall behind her, covered with glass that displayed pastries of all sorts; wedges of fruit pies, a rolled bun slathered with icing and sprinkled with cinnamon, jam-covered tarts, cream-filled frieddough, muffins, cakes, and cookies. This place had everything. “What can I get for you?”
“What would you like?” I asked Sterling.
Sterling looked at me like he’d seen a ghost. “Oh no, I forgot I had no money. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to pay for me,” he said.
“I’m happy to pay. Get whatever you like,” I said, my mouth twisting into a smile against its will.
